Bringers of Doom

by Blake Arthur Peel

  It warns that they will stop at nothing until their cataclysmic vision is brought to pass.

  Turning a corner, I spot Richard up ahead gathering books from off a wooden cart.

  Slowing my pace somewhat, I approach him from behind, tapping him on the shoulder and causing him to jump.

  “Sorry,” I say sweetly as he turns wide-eyed to regard me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Zara,” he breathes, his face breaking out into a nervous grin. “I thought you would be studying that book I showed you.”

  “I was,” I reply, handing the dusty tome back to him. “I plan on studying it in even greater detail later. But for now, I have to go. And I need your help with something.”

  “Me?” He asks, looking perplexed. “I really don’t think I have the time.”

  I frown. “You’re a steward in training. Aren’t you supposed to serve the mages?”

  “Yes, but... it’s not that simple! I have chores I have to do, things that need–”

  “Look,” I interrupt, lowering my voice and taking a step closer. He squirms uncomfortably at me being so close to him. “You know this library better than I ever will, and the things I am working on are of the utmost importance. I have to go look into some things right now, but in the meantime, I need you to conduct a little research for me.”

  He eyes me for a moment, curious but hesitant. “What kind of research?”

  “I need you to look into someone for me. Well, a group of people, actually. They’re called the Harbingers. I want to know everything there is to know about them. What they believe, what they’ve done in the past, especially anything illegal.”

  “The Harbingers,” he repeats flatly.

  I nod. “I know it sounds crazy, but I promise it is for a good cause.”

  He sighs. “Alright, Zara. I’ll look into this for you.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, beaming. “I owe you one.” Reaching out, I touch his arm and he immediately stiffens. Then, cheeks growing red in the low light of the chandelier, his face splits into a crooked smile.

  “I have to go,” I say after a moment. “We’ll talk more later.”

  We wave goodbye and then I depart, making for the staircase leading up to the main floor of the Pillar of Radiance.

  As I ascend the stairs, I ponder the implications that an apocalyptic cult would have at a time like this.

  They could be actively working with the demons to undermine us from within the Arc of Radiance, I think as I climb. Could they be the ones causing the Arc to fail?

  The main level of the Pillar of Radiance is just as busy as ever, bustling with mages going to and from work, their pace bustling like a hive of bees. I enter the sea of blue robes without a second thought, heading straight for the column that I know will take me to the top of the tower. Doing my best to put on a mask of pure authority, I approach the man standing guard outside.

  "Name?" He asks dully, looking up from a slate held in his hands.

  "Zara Dennell," I reply smoothly, raising my chin slightly so that I stare down my nose at him.

  "Hmmm," he says thoughtfully, scanning his slate. This seems like a new sort of protocol. "I don't see your name here, Magus. Do you have an appointment?"

  "An appointment?" I ask, incredulity creeping into my voice. "You didn't ask me for an appointment last time."

  "This area is newly restricted," he replies, his voice implying that he has explained this very thing many times. "Recent events require everyone to have an appointment if they want to visit with the Circle."

  "Well, I don't care what your little list says." I try to make my voice sound as haughty as possible. "I have a meeting with the High Magus, and she will be furious if she finds out you kept me waiting."

  It was, of course, a lie, but his eyes widen as my words apparently sink in. "The High Magus?"

  "Yes," I sigh, exasperated. "Do you know who I am? I was raised not a week ago by High Magus Holdyn herself, the youngest mage in Conclave history! Now are you going to let me through, or not?" I stamp my foot and fold my arms in front of me, glaring at him.

  For a second he looks uncertain, then finally he breaks. "I... I'm sorry, Magus. There must be some sort of mistake. My apologies."

  Curtly, I reply, "Thank you."

  He turns and opens the lift for me, and I promptly step inside.

  "See that it doesn't happen again," I demand as the door closes shut.

  As the radiant magic forms beneath my feet and begins carrying me upward, I briefly go over the confrontation in my head. That was quick thinking, I think to myself quietly. I'll have to be careful about being so demanding, though. If I keep acting like that I'll be sure to develop a reputation around the Conclave. I don't want to be known as the spoiled mage girl.

  I step off on the floor belonging to the Circle of Magisters, making my way by memory to the hall where the mage had been murdered. The floor seems deserted, though I know that many of the magisters are cloistered in their offices, doing Light knows what.

  No stewards or guards are there to bother me as I go.

  Soon I find myself in the entryway of Tym Halle's office, the chamber scrubbed free of blood and by all appearances, looking as clean and spotless as ever. His body is nowhere to be seen and no traces of the word heretic remain anywhere on the floor.

  Looking around to make sure that no one is watching, I slip inside and close the door shut behind me.

  I immediately begin rifling through his things, looking for any clue at all as to why he had been murdered. Careful not to disturb anything too much, I open the drawers of his desk and search his cabinets, scanning over documents and running my fingers along the edges to seek out anything that may be hidden.

  My search proves fruitless, and I take a step back to reevaluate my plan.

  There is nothing here that seems to indicate he was involved in anything suspicious, I think as I stare out his window at the eastern skyline. Maybe there is something in his personal chambers in the Azure Tower?

  I quickly toss the thought aside. His rooms have no doubt already been scrubbed clean of personal effects, the remaining items shipped off to his next of kin. Besides, I think, more than a little disgruntled, I don't think I would be able to sneak inside. His rooms are probably locked.

  A noise coming from a door in the side of his office makes me jump, and for a moment I fear that my snooping has been discovered.

  My fears quickly evaporate when I realize that it is a sniffling sound coming from the other side.

  Somebody is crying.

  Tiptoeing to the door, I place my ear against it and listen closely. Yes, someone is definitely crying in there. But who could it be?

  Against my better judgment I slowly open the door to peek inside, doing my best to be as quiet as possible. Standing in a smaller office, no doubt the office of his ward, I see a woman standing with her back to me, her shoulders quivering as she weeps into her hands. The room is cramped but otherwise empty, a small box of personal items resting atop a desk that has been wiped clean.

  Taking a deep breath, I decide to open the door fully.

  "Hello?" I ask softly, taking a step inside.

  The woman spins around, and I can hear her sucking in a surprised gasp as she realizes that she is not alone.

  "I didn't mean to interrupt," I add quickly, showing my hands in a placating gesture as her eyes widen in fear. "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

  The shock fades from her face as she recognizes my mage robes. "Thank you, Magus," she replies, wiping her nose with a handkerchief. "I'm alright, I assure you."

  "Why are you crying?" I'm careful to keep my voice as gentle as possible, the way one might speak to a scared child.

  Dabbing her eyes, she clears her throat and responds. "Forgive me, Magus. I was just clearing out my desk, and the reality of everything just crashed down on me."

  It takes me a moment, but I begin to understand. "You were Magister Halle's secretary, weren't you?"
<
br />   She nods, and new tears begin to spring up in her eyes.

  "I'm sorry for your loss." I've never been particularly good at consoling. I hope that my words sound sincere.

  "Thank you, Magus," she replies, forcing a smile.

  A thought suddenly comes to my mind, and I take another step into the room. "I'm wondering if you can help me with something," I begin slowly, attempting to find the right words. "I want to find out who would have done this to your master, but I need help knowing where to look."

  She takes a deep, calming breath before replying. "I'll do my best to answer your questions."

  That's a good start.

  "I'm curious if Magister Halle was involved with anything outside of the Circle. A political or religious group perhaps?"

  She considers for a moment before shaking her head. "Not that I'm aware of, Magus," she replies, bringing her handkerchief back up to wipe her nose. "He was a hard-working man, and spent most of his time here at the Conclave."

  Interesting, I think to myself as I consider my next question. "Was there anything in particular he was working on before he died?"

  "After your arrival at the Conclave, he threw himself into his work," she says, furrowing her brow in thought. "There were some nights when he did not go home, simply stayed up in his office reading dusty old books. I believe he was investigating the troubles with the Arc of Radiance, and was researching the... um... demons you had mentioned." She says that last bit quietly, as if the topic makes her uncomfortable.

  "Did he discover anything noteworthy?"

  "If he did, he never shared it with me," she sniffs. "Those last few days he mostly kept to himself."

  My heart sinks a little at those last words. This is starting to look like a dead end, I conclude. "Thanks for your help," I say at length, an air of finality in my voice. "My condolences for your loss. I hear that Magister Halle was a very good man."

  "Thank you, Magus," she replies, forcing another pained smile.

  I turn and begin to leave, but before I am out of the magister's office, the ward calls me back.

  "Wait," she says, and I look back into her office curiously.

  "Yes?"

  "There is something else," she continues, her brow furrowing again, this time more deeply. "The night before he... before he died, he did leave the Conclave for a couple of hours. He had mentioned that he was going to the Cathedral of Light, to look into something in the crypts. I thought it was strange, but with everything else that has happened, it slipped my mind until now."

  "The crypts at the Cathedral of Light," I repeat. "That was where he went the night before he died?"

  She nods solemnly.

  "Interesting. Thank you very much." I depart into the hall.

  Looking out one of the windows I pass, I try to judge the time of day. Still a few hours until sunset, I conclude. That should be plenty of time.

  Making my way to the lifts, I mentally plot a course through the city to the Cathedral of Light near the royal palace.

  It's the best lead I have to go by, and I plan to follow it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Owyn

  I step outside and breathe in the crisp morning air.

  It's a new day, I think to myself as I fill my lungs and exhale, my breath puffing slightly in front of my face. A new day with a new master. Honestly, I'm not really sure what to expect.

  Rickard Shaw seems like a good enough ranger. He seems strong and competent, weathered by a hard life of living mostly outdoors. However, it is hard to compete with somebody like Elias Keen - even though I know this arrangement is only temporary. Elias is practically the embodiment of what a ranger should be.

  Taking in another breath, I push away those thoughts and gaze out at the world around me.

  As far as I can tell, the Grand Lodge functions like a well-managed military camp, with everyone waking up and retiring at virtually the same time. As I step away from the bunkhouse reserved for the lowest of the rangers, I marvel at how everyone here is already up and moving, exercising and carrying out chores before the sun has even crested the horizon.

  Talon, the other apprentice, steps out of the bunkhouse behind me.

  "We should probably go to the mess hall," he says brusquely, gesturing to the building on the far side of the Lodge. "Rickard will want to be heading out as soon as possible."

  I nod, and together we set off, wordlessly making our way through the bustling camp of rangers.

  Yesterday, Rickard had given us an early night, stating that we would need to be well rested for our journey on the morrow. Talon and I had spent some time talking before we went to bed, though our conversation never went particularly deep. Still, he seems like a nice enough fellow. A little full of himself, perhaps, but nice.

  It'll be good for me to have someone to talk to now that Zara is gone.

  We enter the mess hall to find that it is already packed full with people. Rangers of all ages crowd the tables, eating bowls of porridge and munching on crusty bread. Talon and I get our own food and find a place at one of the tables, deigning to eat quickly before we were forced to go out into the forest once again.

  I find that I am more than a little nervous, going out with a ranger other than Elias. Will this man be as good of a teacher as Elias, or will he turn out to be a poor replacement?

  We wolf down our food and before I know it, we are outside again, approaching the stable where Rickard is already saddling our horses.

  "Make sure you bring everything you need to make it out there," he admonishes without looking up. "Our mission is to comb the wilderness and keep an eye out for rebels. I anticipate that we will be out there for more than a week, so make sure your quivers are full."

  "Yes, master," Talon replies before jogging back to the bunkhouse to gather his things.

  I follow right behind him.

  In truth there really isn't much for me to pack. My things are already in my saddlebags, and I am already accustomed to living a transitory life. Still, it is worthwhile to do a final check of my sleeping area before mounting my horse.

  I hate the thought of leaving anything behind.

  Before heading back outside, I make sure to place the letter I had written the night before on my bed, carefully folded and sealed. The name Elias is written clearly on top. If he returns while I am out, he will know where I am and not continue searching.

  Taking a deep breath, I follow Talon out into the yard and mount my horse, my longbow on my shoulder and my hatchet on my side.

  As Rickard leads us out of the Lodge and into the wilderness, I find that more than a few of the rangers around camp are staring at us. It is fairly common for a ranger to have an apprentice, but two apprentices? It is practically unheard of. Still, Rickard does not seem bothered by the circumstances, his demeanor cool and unperturbed.

  I try to ignore their gazes as we head into the woods west of the compound, toward the looming Southwall Mountains in the distance.

  It seems that before I know it, the forest swallows us up and we are all alone in the wilds.

  Rickard leads the way, a grim-looking figure astride his black and white patched stallion. The beast looks temperamental, and seems much more energetic than our more placid geldings. Still, even with his more spirited horse, Rickard remains mostly silent, watching the forest around us with a practiced eye.

  Before long, Talon breaks the silence by whispering quietly at me behind his master's back.

  "Where are you from, anyway?" His voice is curious, and contains no ill will or contempt.

  "Edenshire," I reply, resting a hand on the horn of my saddle. "You?"

  "Yarrin," he says. "Been a southern boy my whole life."

  "Never been to Yarrin. I hear it's a nice place."

  He shrugs, then looks out at the trees. "Not much there but rocks and metal workers. It's actually a very ugly city, if I'm being honest. Full of laborers and money grubbers and miles from anywhere interesting." His tone in mocking, but when he lo
oks back over at me, I see that he is wearing a frown.

  I'm not really sure how I should respond.

  After a moment, he continues. "How long have you been a ranger, mate?" Now that we are out in the forest, Talon seems much more talkative than he was the night before.

  I think for a second. "Almost a year."

  "Not bad," he replies appreciatively. "I've only been in about four months or so." He nods at my bow and quiver. "I bet you know how to use that fairly well."

  "I can shoot," I reply, trying to be modest. There's no sense in making him think I'm arrogant.

  "I'm not much of a bow man myself," he replies, reaching over and patting a pair of short swords strapped to his saddle. "I prefer these in a scrap. More direct, you know? Up close and personal."

  "I see," I respond, trying to keep from smirking. I doubt he's ever been in a real fight his entire life.

  "Can I ask you a question?" He asks abruptly, leaning over and lowering his voice even more.

  "Sure."

  "What are you doing here? I mean, with my master and me. Did your master die or something?"

  The question is so sudden that it takes me off-guard. My face becomes a stony mask, and my gut reaction is to go on the defensive. He doesn't know, I remind myself, forcing away the urge to leap off my horse and punch him in the face. He's just curious, that's all.

  Finding the right words, I answer his question. "He didn't die. He needed to... take care of some things for a while. I imagine I'll only be with you two temporarily."

  He raises an eyebrow at me, appearing unconvinced, but he offers no argument.

  We continue our ride in silence.

  After about ten minutes, however, Talon speaks up again, his attitude becoming more amiable. "I became a ranger to get out of the piss-poor life I have always known."

  I look over and regard him as he runs a hand through his thick, messy black hair.

  "My father was a miner, you see. As was his father before him, and his father before him. The foothills near Yarrin are rich with all kinds of ore, so most of the folk in those parts make a living in the mines."